


Penumbra

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Choking, Fuckbuddies, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Rey and Kylo's arrangement will last only as long as they both abide by the rules.





	

They have an agreement.

No talking. They are past all chances of either convincing the other to their cause. Debating becomes shouting becomes fighting.

No lightsabers. Trust doesn't exist between them, and cannot, but lightsabers drawn in anger will end with one of them dead. His stays on his ship. Hers remains locked in a box on hers. Rey is the only person who knows the key sequence. Most people in her situation would worry about keeping her blade at hand. She is more concerned with having hers stolen.

No others. This is the most important rule. If any of his superiors or even his subordinates discovered what he's doing, Kylo would be dragged before his Supreme Leader and beheaded. If her friends knew, she'd be up on charges and, worse, have to face their disappointment.

Discovery remains a worry for both. Rey can claim she's getting in flight hours only for so long. She doesn't know what excuses Kylo makes, or if he merely glowers at his underlings and shouts at them until they're too afraid to ask his comings and goings.

Some lovers plan their assignations via flowery communique or by stealthy flimsy passed hand to hand. Two Force users, bound in such uncomfortable fashion to each other, need merely to think of one another and know they will be heard. She remembers clearly the first time their minds recoiled from the unfamiliar touch, remembers the first time he reached to her without anger, remembers the first night she lay in bed unable to sleep, her hand slipping between her legs to relieve her private stress, sensing him behind her eyes as he did the same in his own bunk lightyears away. Frustration met shame, and the next time they battled they began with lightsabers but ended with scratched welts and bitten lips and the knowledge their enmity had shifted into something far more dangerous.

Their biggest advantage is also their biggest risk. Luke has been respectful of her privacy. He shares thoughts with his sister, but will not touch Rey's mind without her permission. Kylo's Master has no such honorable code. Only luck has kept Snoke out of his head and thus out of Rey's. Kylo can't and won't promise what he will happen if they are revealed.

No promises. This isn't some wide-eyed love affair. They are enemies outside the circle of this time they've set apart.

No emotions, either. The old Jedi had that right. Tomorrow, she may have to kill him. Today must remain about need and nothing more.

This cannot last, Rey thinks, and she pulls him in for a kiss. He's already removed his mask, setting it aside, and his skin tastes like the stale leather lining. Rey's used to the sweat-slick of his cheeks, the crush of his hair under her fingers. They've done this enough that she knows he's about to reach for her chin, draw her mouth closer as his lips open against hers.

Want shimmers from him. No words, merely animal desire. This is not the calculating finesse of a partner, no matter how well they know each other. This is lust, and power, and grappling in the dark.

She aches for him.

The Empire kept a garrison here long before either of them were born. The decaying metal shell of the base pokes through with holes chewed by the metallovores populating this planet. The landing bay will not provide much protection for their ships from the small beasts. Rey has a blanket from the kit of her fighter, a thin but insulating layer she stows in case of nonlethal engine failure. It provides no softness against his back as she all but throws Kylo to the ground atop the shimmery surface, only a warm layer between skin and the cold metal deck plates.

His body is a more resilient pad between hers and the floor. She's used to stripping away his armor, used to the gauntlets on his hands peeling away enough of her clothes for his glove to take a firm grip to her breast. She's used to the warm heat rising off his body as she exposes his skin, running her tongue against the firm proud flesh of a new scar.

She takes him into her mouth because she likes the surprised gasp he makes, and likes the feel of his hands wrapping in her hair. He's sour with sweat and gaggingly thick against the roof of her mouth as she sucks and swallows to hear him moan. He pushes her head, which is enough to get her to pull off him with a wet POP. She's never sucked him all the way. He wants her to, dreams often of her gulping him down, before he wakes with spoiled sheets again. She knows.

Kylo is eager to taunt her in return. He grabs her hips with both hands and drags her to his mouth. He's learned the shape of her folds under his fingers and tongue, has learned how far he can push her as he suckles against her wet clit. He gasps in breaths below her as she pushes herself against his face, then he drives his tongue deep inside her. She loves the burn of her muscles straddling him this way, and how good she feels when he tickles and prods and coaxes her almost to her edge.

He'll push her over sometimes. He can feel her pleasure building inside her, just as she feels every pull of her own mouth on his prick. Kylo would like to tease her and leave her, but his own desire can't always hold back. He'll intend to pull back, intend to push her away from his head. Instead, he'll trace the tip of his tongue up and down the sensitive line of her flushed skin until they both tremble with the fire racing through her as she screams. She loves hearing him inside her mind then, loves knowing he's in her skin feeling everything she feels.

Today he's got barely enough presence of mind to shove her hips away from his mouth. His thoughts are nearly incoherent. He wants to slide into her cunt wetly, wants to drive himself into the tight heat of her ass, wants to feel her mouth on him again. Kylo's need courses through her, indistinguishable from her own.

No words can describe what she feels. Words will break this.

She pulls herself down his body, over his chest and past his stomach. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she reaches behind and takes hold of him, positioning herself to guide him deep inside her. The first thrust always burns, too fast, too much. She flinches, accepting a pain she's come to cherish. Before long, they sink into their rhythm, the one they've built between them these past several months. Rey knows the feel of him seated deep inside her, knows the power she wields as she rises and falls over him. She squeezes him intimately in a silken grip, feeling the thick throb inside herself and moaning at the wet feel of herself around his cock.

If she could stop this, she would. She tells herself she would.

There are times she lets him have his way, when his fingers get her spit-slick and ready before the blunt head of his prick pushes into her anus. Her fingers will practice their own well-known dance against her clit, always a little afraid of the too-large intrusion against her, and always wanting him deeper, faster, more.

Within his mind, she reads the tinfoil reflections of his life: the petty sorrows he's nurtured since childhood, the hissed promises his Master makes and breaks, and within them all a skewed image of Rey. Sometimes her face is in shadow, sometimes in light. Kylo reaches to her, wants to possess her, always wants to possess her.

She reaches back to him, enjoying as he writhes when she clutches down on his throat with her power. He is teaching her darkness. She is bringing him light. She asked Luke once, buried in other questions about the Force, about what happens to those caught in the middle. "The middle brings death," he told her.

The holonovels call them little deaths, says a half scrap of memory bubbling up. Her mind spins as sensation overtakes her, pushing her to a high plateau. She takes Kylo's mouth against hers, letting him gasp in her breath, and she pushes them both over the edge, letting his sweet convulsions push her further and further, until she has teased out all possible pleasure.

As she rests her body against his, feeling his arms enfold her, Rey pushes back the dark thoughts begging to consume her. There's a loathing she reserves for herself after their trysts, and a sharp, hard judgement, but this has faded over time. She kisses him, tasting the mess of his mouth. She can feel only a small poke from her conscience and a smaller one still from her shame, almost nothing left of the overpowering horror she experienced after their first time together. She feels good. She doesn't need to make herself miserable about feeling good.

Inside Kylo's sleepy, sated thoughts, an image flickers.

Rey sits up abruptly. They're still connected, body and spirit. He reads the sudden worry in her eyes and closes his for a moment. The stray thought returns to the forefront of his mind. The First Order fleet is gathering for an attack. She pulls away from him with an awkward fumble.

"Rey, don't."

She glares at him for breaking that one rule, the only rule that keeps the peace within the rest.

Kylo glares right back. "It was never peace. It was only a series of short truces."

"Then you have one minute to get dressed before I declare war." She turns for her clothes, not wanting to admit to the guilt which had haunted her after their first rendezvous, and their second, and their fifth, and her anger at its return now. She's been stupid. She should have known better. He has always been a capricious threat.

"You can't tell them, you know." Kylo hasn't moved.

She shrugs on her shirt, working on the fastenings until she gives up after two. "Your fleet is on its way to destroy our base. If you try to stop me from warning the Resistance, I will cut you down, and we both know it."

He ignores the threat. "If you tell them, you'll have to tell them how you found out. If you tell them I told you, they won't believe you, and if they do believe you, they'll imprison you for treason."

Her hands pause only a moment as she pulls up her trousers. She can live with her mistakes, never with her cowardice. "It doesn't matter. I'll tell them everything." Still irritated with him, she says coldly, "You're the one who will be executed for telling me First Order secrets."

"I'm aware." He closes his eyes again. Usually, she watches him this way for a while, enjoying the pleasant buzz as they return to themselves. On the best days, she curls next to him, and listens to the sound of his heart, and it isn't long before they reach for each other again. Their first times are always quick and full of frantic need. The second times, when they have the leisure of second times, are restful, easier, and full of fascinated exploration.

Another pang hits her. He's broken the rule, and there can be no more first or second times, no more desperate grabs for bare flesh, no more slow strokes against warm skin.

"We could run," he says as Rey fastens her second boot.

The words take her in confusion. Run where? Run how? But they each have a ship, and there's enough fuel them to get one ship far enough to go anywhere.

"I can't abandon the Resistance now. We are under attack!"

"The attack is scheduled for a day from now." The truth in his statement echoes in his thoughts. They agreed not to speak because they can lie to each other in words. There is no room for lies inside their minds. He is giving her a terrible gift with a single payment requested in return.

Rey hesitates.

"I have to warn the base. They need to evacuate."

His mind is silent for a long moment. "Let them." 

She reads the second half of his perfidy. A rival came up with this plan. Kylo is happy to see those efforts fall into cinders as his competitor fumes in impotent rage.

"If you run, your side will know you were the one to give up the intel."

"If you warn your allies, my side will be far more busy mopping up the ruins of their planned assault." He's smiling, pleased at the mental picture of some petty would-be overlord stomping in anger before cowering before Snoke's wrath.

"I have to go back. I have to tell them in person. They'll be angry with me, but I need to do this. You should head back as well, or you'll be hunted down for betraying the First Order." They latch onto the same thought at the same time: Kylo will only get to watch his rival's disgrace if he's present.

He sits up, and with a breath that could almost be mistaken for a sigh, he reaches for his trousers.

Rey has to get back to base as soon as possible. She has to tell them what she knows. They will barely have time to abandon the site if she leaves right now.

No tomorrows. No plans. No trying to make this to be something it is not. The rules of their arrangement are clear.

She should not step closer to Kylo, should not grab his chin and yank his mouth against hers. She should not open her mind to his again and show him the image of a particular secluded moon where she will be waiting at a particular spot eight cycles from now. She should not promise she will pack her knapsack before she meets him there, carrying her lightsaber and enough supplies to get them as far as their fuel will take them. It would be against every rule they set for themselves to do so.

But that's precisely what she does.

end


End file.
